The War of the Rangers
by Megazord Master
Summary: Sauron has introduced two new players and has stolen The Ring from Imladris. Giant monsters march on Minas Tirith. An ocean of orcs surges from Isengard. Evil drips from every crevice. Is there anyone in Middle Earth with the power to stop them?
1. Darkness Arrives

AN: I really hate my brain and the ideas that come from it sometimes. Yet another story to add to the pile.

The War of the Rangers

Prologue: Darkness Arrives

 _Where am I?_

The being on the floor shifted as awareness came flooding back to his mind. He recalled the triumph he had felt in his body as his forces had run roughshod over his opponents, their screams of pain sounding like music to his ancient ears. The final strike against the stronghold was a victory a long time in coming and he had sauntered onto the battlefield to revel in the dead and dying warriors at his feet. Yes, those who would survive would have a place in his Empire as forced conscripts, concubines or slaves; they would be bound to him until they died…only to be resurrected into his new army of the undead. Those that struggled and revolted would be used to feed his children, the walking steak his daughter mad married, and what his son had scraped off a wayward comet. That had been the plan anyway and everything was shaping up to lead into the beginning of it…until it had occurred.

It had begun with the feeling as though someone important had died, an echoing presence in his mind winking out with the flip of some unseen switch. He scarcely had the time to process the start of the emotions threatening to overwhelm him when the light appeared in the distance, racing closer with each second. He didn't look back at his armoured and shielded bunker, knowing it was too late for him to run. Communications with his generals fizzled into static as the light touched them, transforming them into nothingness within instants. In that moment, he finally understood everything that was happening and everything that was about to happen. Centuries of planning, waiting and scheming would be undone by one of the people he had called a friend a very long time ago.

He would not falter in the face of his death.

The light hit his body and, for a brief moment, he felt nothing but the purest love filling his body. Steadfastly refusing his friend's final offer to turn him into the man he once was, he ground his teeth together as he felt his body being atomized – one cell at a time until the inevitability of death claimed him. However, as he was finding out at the present moment, that did not seem to be the case. He was lying on a stone floor of some kind and there was thick and choking smoke hanging in the air. There were creatures around him as well, though his eyes had yet to adjust to the low levels of light. Closing his eyes for the moment, he searched for the core of his power and grasped it with all his strength, grateful that it had survived the light of his friend's death. He would wonder about what had happened later as it wasn't really his most pressing concern; though a small part of him did wonder about the events that surrounded it. Had the situation at the front really deteriorated that much from his earlier travels? What new manner of weapon had those thrice-cursed humans cooked up that would require a sacrifice of that magnitude?

"Rise up my new servant."

The voice was deep and rough, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Summoning what remained of his strength, he rose on shaking legs to face the being that had brought him here and saved him from destruction. He blinked once at the sight of an impossibly tall tower seemingly under constant construction and, at the top, a lidless eye sat, wreathed in fire. Swallowing hard at this unexpected sight, the figure shuffled back nervously – only stopping when the heel of his right foot felt nothing behind him. Wondering what had brought him here, he slowly turned around to a desolate plain of obsidian and onyx stretching out in front of him for as far as he could see. Deep cracks and fissures ran through the rock and unearthly red magma glowed beneath, the heat burning the tips of his hair; camps constructed out of wood and stone dotted the landscape, humanoid creatures fashioning and creating weapons and armour…preparing for war.

Strange beasts flew overhead, small creatures that looked as though they were just hatched and were testing out their wings. Screams of tortured souls coming from one of the pits below him and, rather out of place in the hellish environment, came nine waterlogged figures riding equally drenched horses. As they dismounted and began climbing up the multitude of steps to reach his vantage point, the figure turned back to look at the flaming eye with some amount of growing excitement. There was something in the air that he hadn't tasted in more than ten thousand years – the taste of infinite possibilities. Yes, there was magic in this world and, unlike the place he had been spirited from, it flowed through him with ease and efficiency. Cracking his neck to work out the aches that were starting to set in; he looked down at the second figure on the ground with some measure of disdain. Why he had chosen to bring the vial of ooze with him, he hadn't the foggiest…though it looked like it was slowly turning into a humanoid being. Recalling reports a few years ago, he chuckled darkly under his breath and turned up to his new Master once more.

The world had changed. No more was he to be a free agent with the ability to carry out his own agenda; he would be expected to carry out missions on the front lines with his troops and bring crushing defeat to those who opposed him. In fact, he was sure he still had a few eggs in the pockets of his robes he could use against whatever meager force stood in their way. As the nine drenched warriors reached his vantage point, a slow grin crept over his face. He would do everything he could for this world to know his name.

The name of Master Vile.

TBC…


	2. One Last Hope

A/N: That was a rather quick turnaround time for this chapter. Lots more to come…

Chapter 1: One Last Hope

The first thing he saw was fire.

The orange flickering light reached through the sea of blackness in a comforting way. A shadow of a smile played over his lips as he subconsciously angled his body towards the warmth. His mind slowly stirred awake from its slumber and he rolled over, in an attempt to warm his other side. Smiling contentedly, he opened his eyes a fraction wider…and everything came back to him. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, shot to his feet to survey the immeasurable blow they had been dealt during the Council of Elrond. The marble pedestal where the Ring had been placed by Frodo had been reduced to pebbles and its defenders were injured. The newly formed Fellowship, not even half a minute old, had been dealt a crushing defeat against the overwhelming wave of creatures that had descended from the skies. Whatever they were, they weren't orcs or goblins but some sort of upright bird creature that wore purple-tinged armour. Although they carried no weapons, they were fiercely formidable foes.

Nearly all of the guards Elrond had summoned within the first few seconds were dead, victims of frenzied slashes and pecks that had torn out eyes, throats and hearts. Some of the birds lay on the ground either dead or paralyzed by the swift counter-attack, namely Legolas who had kept his bow at the ready after the rather dramatic 'swearing to Frodo' that had happened earlier. Said elf was still unconscious, his princely face marred with dirt and a thin trickle of blood that oozed from a gash over his left eye. Gimli was half-buried under the bodies of his travelling party, whether they were dead or unconscious, Aragorn did not know. The dwarves had been small powerhouses, plowing through the ranks of the creatures as they fell from the skies. He had seen Gimli personally save Frodo's friends on more than one occasion; felling several birds with one great cleave from his axe. Boromir of Gondor, the staunch warrior who had held a mild fascination with the Ring, was beginning to stir; the injuries to his face and arms were great, but he would recover with time Aragorn knew they didn't have.

The least injured were the hobbits. As small as they were, the man who would be King surmising that the attacks had missed them completely…or the enemy did not perceive them as a threat. Despite that, they had thrown aside their fears and charged headlong into battle with whatever weapons they could find. Frodo and Sam had been clumsily swinging scimitar and short sword respectively. Merry had managed to obtain a wooden practice lance and had used it with some small degree of skill, though most of the time he had been using it as a staff. Pippin had scooped up two rather sharp knives from the nearby kitchen and had used them effectively as daggers. Lord Elrond himself was looking as battered and bruised as he felt he was but, apart from himself and the slowly stirring Boromir, he was the only one on his feet.

"Ada, what happened? You proclaimed us the Fellowship of the Ring and those creatures dropped from the skies. I thought them to be crows from Caradhras at first, though they would not be…man-like."

Elrond nodded wearily, his Elven sword dangling from his left hand weakly. In all his years, he had never seen creatures so ferocious in battle and that exuded such a terrifying aura. They fought with a single purpose and goal and almost didn't let the deaths of their comrades affect them. There was something else as well, though the Elf Lord couldn't believe it as it would turn everything he knew about the world on its head. Although he was knowledgeable about everything that had come before and that would presumably come to pass, giant, talking birds wasn't on the agenda anywhere…and now he had admitted to himself that they had been talking. That would take a while to sink in.

"Aragorn, they were here for The Ring and they were successful in taking it. Sauron has the Ring of Power and all hope is lost."

Aragorn slumped against the wall, eyes glazing over as the weight of his adopted father's words washed over him. All the effort to bring the Ring to Imladris, where the power of the Elves would be able to shield it from Sauron's gaze for a while, meeting the hobbits in Bree and the battle on Weathertop and the chase to heal Frodo…none of it mattered anymore. With the symbol of his tyranny in his iron grip, Sauron would rule the world and finish what he started all those long years ago and there was nothing he could do to stop that. Taking the throne of Man would only be a futile stopgap and would only delay the destruction of the world by a matter of days but he had to admit, it was better than nothing.

Yet…he wasn't worthy to take the title of King yet. Although he was the heir to the throne, it was something that was only to be done whenever Sauron was defeated. Heaviness settled over his body, seeping into his limbs and making him wish that the end would come soon. Reaching out with his right hand, he grasped the top of a ceremonial staff and chuckled mirthlessly as he imagined what his coronation would have been like. Arwen would be present and he would have married her on the spot, Elrond would be there with all his friends and the people of Gondor watching and the White Tree in full bloom. What a sight that would have been with the golden crown on his head and…

He paused in his mindless despair at the sudden warmth he felt in his heart and the tingle of magic in the air. Looking around slowly, he could see everyone was awake and had been in the same state of hopeless despair he was coming out of; the exception being Gandalf who was looking for all the world as though he had received some sort of joyous news. What joy could be found in such a bleak situation was anyone's guess but there was something in the air that seemed to herald the coming of a being more ancient than the Maiar and far more powerful. Hope began to blossom tentatively in his heart as he raised himself to his feet to face something growing in the centre of the room that he couldn't adequately explain.

It was a hole but it also wasn't one. It didn't seem to be very thick yet seemed to stretch to eternity inside. No sound came from it, yet there seemed to be a faint crackling of energy around it. There was also a humanoid figure walking towards him clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with every colour known. Tucked in the crook of one arm was an ornately decorated chest and, in the other, was a staff that seemed to glow with a golden shine. Stepping back as the figure grew closer; the man who would be King unclasped his hand from the handle of his sword as he sensed no malice or anger, only peace and knowledge.

"Gandalf, you didn't tell them?"

The stranger's voice was quiet but could be easily heard over the energy. Experience and strength were present as well as a quality that spoke of many battles fought and won over a great amount of time.

"I only received the news just then. Can you help us destroy the Ring and defeat Sauron?"

The figure strode out of the not-hole and watched it close slowly behind him. He, and he was a male, looked to be almost as old as Gandalf but with as much inner strength as the dwarves. A slight sheen of sweat or moisture glistened off his bald head and a small smile danced mysteriously on his lips. Releasing the box and staff, Aragorn's mouth dropped open as they began to float in front of him and began pulsing with multicoloured light. Seeing the avian bodies at his feet, the stranger's lips curled in something akin to disgust and muted understanding.

"Yes, indeed I can. I can also inform you of the menaces that Sauron has brought here as well as give you a wealth of power you will need to defeat his new machinations."

"Why should we trust you? Who are you?"

The figure's smile widened as he looked down at Frodo.

"I am Zordon of Eltare."

TBC…


	3. Passing the Torch

Chapter Two: Passing The Torch

"You're telling me that the Valar sent him here from another dimension?!"

Aragorn's voice was low and incredulous as Gandalf nodded his answer. Behind them, Zordon was taking out what looked like golden coins from the box and was laying them on one of the spare tables. Huddled around him were the hobbits, Gimli and Boromir, the human having his wounds tended to by Elrond's personal medical team. Maiar sent by the Valar, he could easily wrap his mind around as the presence of the Valar in Middle Earth was known by all but to think they had the power to pull a powerful wizard from another dimension was…well, it was too fantastical to be taken seriously. However, try as he might to think this was all a byproduct of too many blows to the head, the proof was staring him in the face courtesy of seven golden coins bearing images of animals that he had never seen before. Well, six of which he had never seen before as one of them resembled a beast he had only heard about in hushed whispers: a Fellbeast of Mordor, albeit one with only one crest and no horns adorning its body. The amount of power he could feel emanating from the coins astounded him as he didn't think such small trinkets could ever produce effects like that – save for the One Ring.

The thought of the Ring sobered him up instantaneously and he fought to keep the depression from swallowing his mind as it had done before. Their Fellowship had been broken before a single step towards Mordor and Mount Doom could be taken and their quest had been dashed upon sharp rocks. Any normal man would have found the depression and despair to be overwhelming and, if he was honest with himself, he had felt that way too. There was a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel though, a salve that had come to sooth the grievous wound inflicted on the world and hopefully stop infection from taking hold. Mentally rolling his eyes at the rather dramatic and medical comparison he had made, he shook his head at Gandalf and walked over to the table. None of the coins called to him or entranced them the same way they were his companions. Instead, his gaze was drawn to the rather simplistic staff with a strange blade-like protrusion about halfway down the shaft. It sang promises of pure and kingly power with a warning not to abuse it or the consequences would be great.

"I see the Golden Power Staff calls to you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Yes, the two of you will be a perfect match for the evils you face."

"You speak as though the staff is alive."

Zordon chuckled warmly, looking upon the weapon with a loving gaze. Although it was a symbol of Triforia, Zordon had not foreseen that it would be required in the battles to follow. All it had required was a simple switch and Trey, or whoever he chose as his successor, would be none the wiser that the staff was a replica. He had had reservations about transporting such a powerful artifact through the portal but had deemed its power all but required to defeat Sauron and his allies. As the strongest of the Zeo Crystals, it had gained a small amount of sentience over the years but would only project feelings onto its user. Actual and intelligent sentience in a seemingly inanimate weapon had only happened once with the soul of his father being encased in a nearby weapon; something he was sure would surprise the one chosen.

"It is alive in a way unlike you, me or even the Valar. In my world, this is known as non-sentient life as it can convey its thoughts and feelings on its bearer but does not have any audible means of communication. I assure you, I will inform each of you of what your new abilities are."

Aragorn nodded absently, his eyes still drawn to the staff. Reaching out to it, his fingers stroked the weapon and his eyes slammed open as a torrent of strange images ran through his mind – war, protection and self-sacrifice. He saw a youth, not older than 17 or 18, taking on a power that was radically different than anything he had been exposed to in the past and saw, with a creeping sense of dread, the tolls it took on him. He saw a black-suited warrior with gold bands and armour running through a horde of metallic men and controlling what looked to be a mechanical structure that could change shape whenever desired. Blinking back to reality, he stared at the weapon in shock as Zordon began to speak.

"It is true, my friends, I was called here by Manwe to assist you in your hour of need. The taking of The Ring by Sauron was an unprecedented event and has derailed the correct progression of events. Unfortunately, there is no way to go back in time to ensure these events happen as time travel is a tricky thing to get right on the first try. However, I believe I know who Sauron has assisting him and how he was able to pierce the veil of illusion surrounding this place."

Zordon paused to arrange his thoughts, reaching out with his mind to see which powers had chosen which member of the Fellowship. Conversation with Lorien had informed him that the visions and images he had seen as a mentor had been mini prophecies and, as he had expanded on them to his young charges, they had become self-fulfilling ones. Mandos had decreed him to be an acceptable risk to introduce to Middle-Earth as Sauron had also pierced the dimensional wall – something those that had been under his guidance would not do for many years, though the accompanying images puzzled him greatly. Mumbling ancient words under his breath, he summoned a screen and showed images of the one he knew was in the world with him.

The figure on the screen looked to be as ancient as Gandalf and Zordon but the similarities ended there. If Aragorn had to do a comparison, he would have said that it looked like a humanoid hammerhead shark, though the face in the centre looked kindly enough. It was clad in black robes and its chest was covered by plate armour of some kind. In one hand, it gripped a simple staff or wand that was topped with a bulbous head.

"This is Master Vile, undisputed ruler of the M-51 galaxy. His powers are on par with my own, though they are very much unrefined and lacking power. I do not advise you to get too close to his spells as I have not trained you to use the abundant magical energy of this world and without proper shielding, it will get messy. He had the ability to create monsters inside his being that come out as eggs, though I had heard that he changed to a more traditional method of animation. The spell needed to pierce the veil over Imladris is mere child's play to him and it allowed him to send in his feared Tenga Warriors to sow confusion within your ranks as you would not know how to defeat them. If only Sauron had called upon Lord Zedd instead, his Z-Putties would have been much easier to defeat, but I sense his essence is elsewhere.

As you are now, you cannot hope to go up against such strong forces and win. Indeed, if you attempted this, you would be destroyed within moments. That is where I come in. I have brought along with me eight of the most powerful artifacts from my dimension that will assist you in your endeavours. Gandalf has informed me that he will not require an outside Power Source as a change will soon be coming that will require him to be mentored by me to control his new abilities and powers. Thus, I present to the remaining members of the Fellowship – the Power Coins and the Golden Power Staff."

Boromir looked at the flat discs with the start of a sneer on his lips. This Zordon character talked big and had an aura of power around him but, based on the stories he had heard, so had Sauron. Something slightly larger than the Ring could not save his country from the ocean of evil on its doorstep but…there was something else. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, one of the 'Power Coins' was calling to him in a very different way than the Ring. Although it, too, promised great power and the means to save Gondor from the depths of Mordor, it spoke to him of camaraderie and a strength that seemed almost ancient. He had never seen the creature on the coin and almost didn't want to as those teeth looked as though they could slice flesh very easily. It wasn't The Ring and it would never be but, looking at the coin that called for him, he had a strange feeling everything would be…

"I don't see what's so great about these coins. They aren't of Dwarven make and they aren't golden enough to fetch the interest of Smaug! Plus, nothing can stand up to the raw strength and power of the dwarves"

Gimli huffed in annoyance at the chuckles he received in response, his arms still rather sore from constant attacks from the things he now knew were called Tengas. He was also stubbornly refusing to listen to the song of one of the coins, the one with a creature that looked like a furrier Mumakil. He believed in things his ancestors had passed down for generations as they were tried and tested in the harshest of conditions. The short axe that had been shattered upon contact with The Ring was rumoured to have been in the possession of the great Thorin Oakenshield during the Battle of Five Armies and handed down upon his death. However, he was a dwarf and knew that strength could be found in other places outside the mines. He had journeyed to Imladris to see if he could find some small measure of strength within his body as he knew, on some internal level, that the Ring would have to be destroyed.

"Master dwarf, you are correct. In this world, nothing can stand up to the ingenuity of the dwarves, not even the intellects of the Elves or the compassion of Men. However, please try to remember that I am not of this world…and have not ignored the fact one of the coins has chosen you. In fact, all of these Power Sources have chosen their Bearer."

Frodo flinched at the word 'bearer', his mind recalling the torturous experiences he had faced just bringing the Ring to Imladris. If he was to be a Bearer for another immensely powerful golden object, he didn't want the pressure…though his heart yearned for it. Seeing the hobbit flinching at his words, Zordon smiled kindly, his mind recalling a young boy filled with doubt over his past deeds on the side of Evil and the coin he had used. There was a bright and glorious future awaiting Tommy and he was sure that Frodo would have a happy ending other than the one that would be waiting if the Tengas didn't attack.

"Dear hobbit, do not allow your heart to fill with fear and doubt. You did a great service to carry The Ring here, though it was slowly corrupting your mind with its evil, and the Power has recognized your potential strength. The Green Dragon coin also has a history steeped in darkness but it was redeemed by the words and deeds of one of the greatest humans I have ever seen. Frodo Baggins, I, Zordon of Eltare, give you the Green Dragon coin and the mantle of the Green Ranger."

Frodo's fingers closed on the coin as images of triumph, sacrifice and great loss flashed through his mind. He saw a figure clad in green cloth with gold-lined boots and gloves and an ornately decorated shield tearing through crowds of grey-skinned golems as an artificial dragon's screech sounded overhead. Feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, he was not prepared at all for the images that flashed through his mind next: images of what would have happened if The Ring had not been taken. He barely suppressed a scream as he saw himself and Sam willingly breaking off from the group to journey to Mordor alone, being captured by the Rangers of Ithilien, forcing himself to trust the creature known as Gollum…only to become fully corrupted by the power of The Ring and almost doom Middle-Earth to destruction. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at the coin in his palm and hoped his mind would stay his.

"Mister Frodo, what is it? Are you all right?"

Frodo nodded as he tried to scrub those images from his mind. That they didn't happen to him was some small comfort in itself but he couldn't have seen the images if they didn't happen to some variation of him…which didn't really make much sense to him. He felt in his heart that it was correct but forced his mind to the present moment. Seeing that Frodo was coping with the images he had flashed through his mind, Zordon moved on to the stout hobbit next to him; levitating a coin with an abstract design on its face. Why his father had chosen this hobbit instead of the other man, he hadn't the foggiest clue but he had to trust his father was doing the right thing.

"Young hobbit, your friend will be fine. The powers I am granting to him, and to your companions, will see to it that events progress smoothly. In particular, you will be pivotal in the future to ensure he stays on the correct path. For this reason, I grant you, Samwise Gamgee, the White Tiger coin and the title of the White Ranger."

As Frodo had done before him, Sam closed his fingers over the coin and allowed the Power to wash over his mind and body – healing the scrapes and bruises that had been inflicted. In his mind's eye, he could see a stalwart figure clad in white and gold fighting against a golden armoured monster that looked similar to an ape. He could see a mighty tiger with metal armour running through a desert of some kind and, after a flash of light, marveled at the warrior that stood in its place. As the images faded, he was given a glimpse into what his future could have been if everything had gone to plan. He saw himself fighting orcs and goblins in a dark and musty place and, in a moment of pure fear and horror, could see himself facing down a massively giant and ugly spider with only his wits as protection. Shaking his mind out of those images, he looked down at the coin clenched in his fist and resolved to not see that fiend in the future.

"Such strange gifts you have brought to us, master Zordon. The former Ringbearer and his gardener hold two of these artifacts and I am sure the rest of us are to follow. Mind you, I do not wish to be rude or hurry this process but the more time we stay here, the more time we lose on the road."

Zordon chuckled again and paused at the hidden truth in the Man's words. If he had more time and more preparation, he would have bequeathed them individually with the Powers that had chosen them but they didn't have any more time. Although the remaining Tengas would have fled with The Ring safely concealed, they would still have to 'touch base' with Saruman at Isengard to inform the dark wizard of the latest developments. Unfortunately, their path lay on a different direction as he needed to go through the Mines of Moria to get to Lothlorien. Why he needed to go there was something he was keeping a secret for now. Turning towards the son of the Steward of Gondor, he nodded gravely before pushing the Coins towards their respective Bearers.

"Unfortunately you are correct. We do not have time for this long and drawn out ritual empowering and the Powers have already seen that all of you are worthy to hold them. To the remaining hobbits, Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, I give you the Blue Triceratops and Yellow Saber Tooth Tiger coins. May they serve and protect you well in the future as they did in the past. To the elf, Legolas Greenleaf, your archery skills are a perfect match for the Magenta Pterodactyl coin. Gimli, son of Gloin, your stalwartness in previous battles and skirmishes, coupled with your recent defence of the Halflings has earned you the right to wield the armour of the Black Mammoth coin. Finally, Boromir of Gondor, the Power looked deeply into your heart and saw a great deal of confusion over your ability to single-handedly save your country. It saw your strengths, your weaknesses and your faults – everything laid bare for the Grid to judge and deem if you were worthy of such a great responsibility."

Boromir swallowed hard, suddenly very unsure. A half-remembered dream sprang to the forefront of his mind of him struggling to pin down a small figure while scrabbling desperately for something. At the time, he had thought it to be a strange but accurate representation of responsibilities weighing down the joyous child he had once been but, when he thought of it again, he was very much reminded of how small hobbits really were. He could see that The Ring could have the potential to save Gondor but had been harshly blinded to its corrupting effects or, worse still, they had begun to seep into his mental psyche and affect him. He shuddered to think of what would have happened if he was in close proximity to The Ring and Frodo if he had been blinded by its power and his ambition to do anything and everything. Gods above, even the man who would take from his father the position of ruler of Gondor wouldn't have been able to stop him in such a state. Fearing the worst but hoping for the best, he looked at Zordon and nodded for him to continue. To his great relief, the wizard smiled in acceptance.

"Taking everything into account, the power had only one choice: to grant you the power of the Red Tyrannosaurus Power Coin in the hope that it could help you achieve your goals with a cleaner source of power. Take heart, Boromir, there will be no early exit for you this round."

Boromir began to nod in reply but stopped, his mind latching onto the words the wizard had said. No early exit for him this time…what did that mean? Was he supposed to have exited the Fellowship early in the campaign due to urgent summons or, worse still, death? Or would he have become fully corrupted by the power of The Ring and become a willing servant of Sauron? Suppressing a sigh, Boromir decided to let the thoughts vanish into the ether once more; the present was all that mattered, not some nebulous event in some other timeline. Gripping the golden disc in his palm, he opened his mind to the images and sights it showed him: a warrior in blazing red armour battling amidst impossibly tall buildings against almost impossible odds. A rush of images ran through his mind after that, showing different Red warriors overcoming impossible odds and, though it flashed fast too quickly for him to make out any details, it looked as though a small pony was encased in a similar shade of red…but he supposed he had seen stranger in his dreams.

"Before we set off for our individual preparations, there is one last person that I would like to personally grant his Power to. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, step forward."

The Ranger stepped forward and looked at the staff that was suspended between Zordon's hands. He didn't want some mystical power to aid his journey but, if everything he had said about Master Vile was true, he would need all the help he could get. Besides, there was something about dressing up in a costume to save Middle-Earth that appealed greatly to a personal fantasy he had held since childhood. With Elrond gathering the smiths and materials needed to reforge the sword of his forefathers, he would need another blade to stand as a symbol of hope. On the other hand, he had been taught that any weapon could be a stand-in for such a weapon if it were used in the same manner.

"Behold, the Golden Power Staff: one of the greatest treasures on Triforia and the housing for one of the strongest Zeo Crystal shards in the Universe. Given time, these powers will grow strong enough to defeat Master Vile completely. It is unfortunate that it is time we do not have. However, as I was journeying to this world, the staff seemed to change and twist as though it knew it was no longer going to be held by a Prince but by a man who would be king. It is for that reason that I, Zordon of Eltare, grant you the title of Middle-Earth's very first King Ranger. Even if you do not think yourself worthy to take this title yet, such trivialities do not matter to the Power. I will be journeying with you for the duration of this quest as you will need my guidance and expertise. Now, stand before me, men, dwarf, elf and hobbits. There has never been and will never be a stronger fighting force for Good in Middle-Earth."

Zordon paused, a broad smile breaking over his face.

"You are, now and forevermore, the Power Rangers."

TBC…


	4. The Wheel of Fate

Chapter Three: The Wheel of Fate

"I guess you don't need this then…"

Bilbo looked at Sting, the blade that had served him well on his adventure, wistfully. With Frodo being granted a seemingly even more powerful artifact than The Ring, he wouldn't need to know when orcs and goblins were near. Come to think of it, he wouldn't need the shirt of mithril as the magical armour would protect him from everything Sauron could throw at him. Thankfully, he had been sequestered past the three rows of guards and hadn't been touched by the Tengas, only hearing the sounds of the battle outside and wishing he could join the fray. Unfortunately, it seemed time had finally caught up with his mind, if not his body, making his reaction times slower and sluggish. In the fast-paced battle situation, it wouldn't mean the difference between burnt and unburnt toast but would mean something potentially more devastating. Frodo had already lost his parents; it would destroy him completely if something were to happen to him.

"Uncle, we're not going to be strolling around in the magical armour all the time. The Power needs time to recharge and restore the armour. Plus, we need to eat and sleep and if we're 'morphed' all the time, we can't do that."

Frodo mouthed the word 'morphed' to himself a few more times before accepting the short sword and the mithril shirt from Bilbo. The after-meeting meeting had been slightly more involved and in-depth than the rather rushed transference of Powers had been and had entailed Zordon sitting down with each of them and informing them exactly what they had at their disposal. Gandalf, for reasons known only to himself and Zordon, would not be receiving any sort of Power Source but would need to leave the group for a short period of time for his change to occur. Why that had to happen, he had no idea but he wasn't going to question the motives of the Valar any more than needed. Fishing his Power Coin out of his pocket, he stared at the strange three-pronged design and wondered about the images he had seen and what they meant for his future.

Tommy Oliver: that was the name of the person he and Sam had seen in their respective visions. He had been one of the most challenging opponents the Rangers in Zordon's world had ever faced but he had been taken down by a combination of blind luck and strategy and gone on to being one of the best Rangers ever. To be given something that had been owned by a living legend was an awesome responsibility but Zordon had told him that all ties to the former Green, White and Red Ranger had been cleanly severed. Of course, if need arose, Tommy could call upon a secondary set of powers to use or a copy of the Dragon Coin but Zordon hadn't thought that would be needed. Anyway, Zordon had hinted about the awesome arsenal that had been passed down including rudimentary energy projection and something called a Zord…whatever a Zord was.

"I feel strange, my boy. All those years being near The Ring gave me a sort of connection to it and now…now it feels as though it's gone. It is gone and I don't yearn for it or want to be near it and all I can think about is how this is affecting Gollum, wherever he is. The poor creature must be going mad with joy or grief."

Frodo nodded as the words shone a light on something he hadn't been able to put into words. The compulsion to use the Ring before had been overwhelming and he had wondered for a few brief moments if the corruption of the Ring would seep into his mind and colour his thoughts. From the other images he had seen of what would have happened if the Tengas hadn't attacked, he knew that the Ring's evil would have corrupted him to the core and it chilled him to think that there was a version of him somewhere out there who hadn't fought off its evil. However, either due to the Ring not being near him or by the purifying nature of the Power Coin, he hadn't been able to feel the ever-present blot at the back of his mind. He had thought nothing of it until just then, the implications being too mind-boggling to wrap his mind around. If Gollum was out there and ran across his path, what would happen then? Would the wretched creature know that the influence of the Ring had been removed or had he been driven completely insane by the desires and evil of the Ring? What would he do in such a situation? Seeing his words had had the opposite effect, Bilbo shook his head once and placed his hands on the shoulders of his nephew.

"Oh. No, Frodo, don't worry about it. Gollum doesn't have a part to play in this now that the Ring is with Sauron. I doubt he will be seen much in the future anyway as he will be attempting to find a place to die. But that's not what's really eating you up inside, is it?"

Frodo shook himself free of his uncle's hands and looked at the coin once more, the full weight of his new task weighing heavily on his mind. In the morning, he would be setting off on a task of greater significance and, if successful, would cement his name in every single history book to follow. Strider hadn't really set out their path, only that they would travel to Rohan on the way to Gondor where they would lay out their plans to siege Mordor and force Sauron to come out and be destroyed. It sounded so simple, though they would be faced with perils and danger at every turn. Strangely, the first stop on their journey would be the Mines of Moria to retrieve something that had been hidden away in ages past. Shaking those thoughts away, he looked into the nearby fireplace and sighed.

"I have to wonder though, am I really cut out for this? I volunteered to take the Ring to Mordor but, until now, I didn't really understand what that meant. Zordon told us we have an arsenal of incredible powers and abilities at our disposal but didn't give us any guidelines or rules to follow, which makes sense if the enemy isn't going to play by them. I may never see you again. I may never see The Shire again. I may not even live the rest of the week…I don't…"

"You are correct that I did not give you any rules to follow but that is only because I trust you with the Powers."

The hobbit looked up in shock as Zordon stepped into the room, a rolled map held under his left arm. Now that he was up close, Frodo could see the lines on the old wizard's face and the amount of wonder that shone in his eyes…almost as if he was grateful and excited to be alive. Of course, it was probably a trick of the light as he didn't know that anyone could be excited to be in Middle-Earth now that Sauron had the Ring. Carefully placing Bilbo's mithril shirt to one side, he furrowed his brow and asked the wizard why he was so sure that they would wield the Powers well.

"Why am I so sure of this? The way I see it, the Fellowship have been brought together by fate to fulfill the destiny of the downfall of Evil. I have merely given you the tools you need to see this goal to completion…without the splintering that could have taken place. After Sauron has been defeated, I will return to my own dimension."

Frodo nodded once and yawned widely. Making his excuses to Zordon and his uncle, he slid the Dragon coin back into his pocket and left for the quarters he shared with the others. Zordon watched him leave, a sad smile flickering over his face. The truth of the matter was that, even if he returned to his dimension, he would have to die a second time. Manwe had saved him moments after Andros had shattered his energy tube, gathering up his energy as it spread throughout the Universe. He knew his sacrifice wouldn't destroy all the evil that was out there and would not be strong enough to penetrate the natural dark energy shields surrounding Onyx but it would be enough to end the Countdown. His only wish was that he hadn't hesitated as long as he had…then he could have saved Billy's wife. He didn't have to be a psychic to understand that the former Blue Ranger would harbor a lot of anger towards him but he supposed he would have to find it in his heart to someday accept there wasn't anything that could be done. He needed to do that if he were to be granted the immense Power he had sensed in his future.

Bidding goodnight to Bilbo, Zordon stepped out of the room and into the cool night. The air in Middle-Earth smelled far fresher than that of Earth or Eltare and seemed to energise his senses, making him more alert and cautious of his surroundings – something he hadn't been in a very long time. It also had strengthened his magical abilities, allowing short leaps backward in time…which, he thought with a heavy sigh, was why their next stop was Moria and not Lothlorien. They would journey to the land where Galadriel ruled soon enough but it would not be for many more days. By now, the Elf-lady would be receiving the message he had clipped to a falcon's leg and would be informed of their detour. To anger a bearer of one of the Elven Rings was not something he wanted to do but he needed to see the results of the secret project the dwarves were working on before they dug too deep. Gimli needed to be told beforehand that his cousin was dead.

"Zordon, you're up late."

Looking up from his thoughts, the ancient sage saw Boromir of Gondor sitting on a stump in front of him. The new Red Ranger was looking at the Tyrannosaurus Power Coin with an expression of deep concentration on his face. What had been said at the earlier Council had not been easy to hear or say but, as he had been on Earth, he was just a mouthpiece for the Power.

"I could say the same for you, Boromir. Tomorrow morning, we will be leaving for the Mines by mid-morning. You'd best have a good night of sleep to replenish your energy. Unfortunately, the Power Coins cannot fully recharge an exhausted person."

"I…yes, you're right. I…I just don't know what my father will think of me when I return without the Ring. I know it will be still some time before I see him and I have something that is superior to the Ring and the images I saw; the Red Ranger is usually the leader but I cannot lead these people. They are their own beings with their own wants and desires. The burden of leadership…"

"It is not yours to carry alone."

Man and wizard spun at the unexpected voice to see Aragorn walking out of the forest, arm in arm with a stunning Elven woman. The newly minted King Ranger had changed out of his dirty armour and now wore a similar robe to the one Elrond had been wearing earlier, this one trimmed in black with gold runes running down the sleeves. His bracers were the only things that remained mostly unchanged, though Zordon's keen eyes could pick out the subtle bending of light that signified the communicators he had given them. The Golden Power Staff was hanging on his right hip in its compact form and a long sword was on his left. The Elf whispered something to him and melted back into the trees. The Gondorian shook his head at her exit and looked down at the coin in his hands once more. Sensing a shift was close at hand, Zordon stayed quiet, content to allow things to happen without his direct involvement.

"From what the images showed me, the Red Ranger leads but I cannot lead you; you are the rightful King. You should be leading us into battle but you choose to sit on the sidelines. I cannot understand why you would choose to do such a thing but you said the burden of leadership was not mine to carry alone."

Aragorn nodded once at his words, his mind flashing to the images glimpsed by the Power, though he forced his mind to the present moment. The images shown to him were just that – images that held little to no bearing on their current situation. Yet, he couldn't deny the truth in the other man's words. He had just said that he would help carry the burden of leadership but he wasn't going to turn around and say it had been a spur of the moment utterance. Unhooking the Golden Power Staff from his belt, he ran his eyes over the six-pronged design at the top and the spherical gem that seemed to pulse with power. There were symbols carved into the metal but no one had been able to decipher them and he had to practically pull Arwen away before she could do irreparable harm to her hair.

He had to face facts and the harsh reality he now lived in: he needed to take the throne of Man and lead a united Middle-Earth to victory against Sauron. He knew he wasn't ready but he needed to be when they arrived at Minas Tirith. There would be a lot of ground to cover from here to there and, if he was going to convince Elrond to allow his daughter to marry him, he would need to be a strong and successful leader. A small part of his mind instinctively recoiled from the idea of what amounted to marrying his sister but…well; the times he lived in were strange enough without carrying ideas and concepts from other dimensions. Tomorrow would be a big day for all of them but there was one thing he needed to do.

"I am learning to be the leader I was meant to be but I need assistance to do so. I have this, the Golden Power Staff as held by the king of another planet, and as much as that boggles my mind, I find myself strangely drawn to it. I cannot lead the Fellowship on my own and, though he is a great friend, I cannot ask that of Legolas. However, I can ask that you be patient and guide me into my destiny."

Boromir looked up and saw the sincerity in the eyes of the other man. Swallowing one's pride was never an easy thing to do and an offer to help the man who would be king was too good to pass up. He knew that he had been groomed to be the next Steward of Gondor and to hold the throne until such a time when the next King ascended, nearly all the sons in his family tree had been gifted with that unique burden. However, his father had been sequestered up in the highest chambers of the city for several weeks on end and had been muttering things concerning the end of the world. He knew his father was declining into madness caused by their proximity to Mordor and Sauron but did not know how much time was left for his father's clear mind. Faramir never really came home any more as he had his own issues in Ithilien and scouting to document any upcoming war preparations that were taking place.

He was not a good teacher, though. He could not sit still for hours on end while he drilled concepts into people. No, his talents lay in showing them first-hand how devastating a single strike could be in place of a word. He also knew how deadly words could be off the battlefield and years of listening at doorways had given him a surprising amount of political knowledge. Being a Steward was all about action, those were the words that had been cemented into his mind by his father. However, being a king was mainly about words; how to shape them, how to string them together and how to make others thirsty for them. Aragorn had none of that knowledge yet. Glancing at the Power Coin once more, he slipped it in his pocket and stood up.

"How can I decline such an offer, to help shape the future leader of Man? I accept and only hope you do not regret it once we reach Minas Tirith."

Both men clasped forearms, grinning at each other while Zordon watched and remembered two boys doing the same thing on a sandy shoreline. While it would be presumptuous of him to compare Boromir and Aragorn to Jason and Tommy, he could see the similarities. And, yes, no other colour had led the Rangers but Red on Earth but he had a strange feeling that it wouldn't always be the case. He also had a hunch that his home dimension would be instrumental in bringing together other dimensions…but in what ways, he did not know. Amidst all the uncertainty, there was one thing he knew for a fact.

They were ready.

TBC…


	5. Sowing the Seeds of Evil

AN: And we're back in the New Year…finally. Again, Power Rangers and Lord of the Rings isn't mine; they belong to Tolkien's Estate and Saban respectively. Will hope to update more often (and finish Powers Within this year) but…well, life gets in the way so easily.

Chapter Five: Sowing the Seeds of Evil

Frodo looked behind him and sighed.

They had left Rivendell early that morning and were en route south to the Misty Mountains, where they would look for the Gates of Moria. Before they set off on their journey, Zordon had taken Gimli and the other dwarves aside and had spoken to them in hushed tones. The Black Ranger had protested at some piece of news he had received before settling into grim acceptance and a slight melancholy that seemed to radiate from him. Whatever the news had been, Frodo didn't want to know but, in his heart, he knew it was bad. They would get through it as a team, though. The images and memories that were conveyed to him through the Green Power Coin were slowly teaching him to become more mindful of others and to see the words they weren't speaking. Honestly, that last part had thrown his mind into disarray but, as with everything that had happened since the Council of Elrond, he would be fine with time.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked at the others in silent wonder. He could barely imagine that a being from another dimension had come to help them with their current crisis, especially if what he had garnered from the Coin was true and there were an infinite amount of dimensions. However, he found himself trusting Zordon quicker and much deeper than he had Aragorn, even though he knew now that he was supposed to be the rightful King of Men. It was the same with Gandalf and he reasoned it was due to the fact that Zordon and Gandalf were both wizards in different ways. Gandalf used his magic to amuse and delight young children, though he had heard stories of him using it to drive away giant spiders and thwart evil goblin schemes. Zordon, however, used his magic to protect and defend and, in conjunction with the artifacts he had brought with him, give power to those that would ordinarily be swept away in the ensuing chaos. Briefly wondering where he had picked up the word 'conjunction', Frodo walked faster to the main group and caught the tail end of a question posed by the Magenta Ranger.

"…Moria again?"

Zordon nodded at the question, smiling briefly at Frodo who was finished with some sort of introspection and was rejoining the main group. The hobbit reminded him so much of Billy, it was almost painful – even more so considering the harsh lesson that he had to give his former Ranger before he had been called. A small part of him yearned to give Billy the closure that was needed but the impetus needed to come from within and that would not happen for many years. Looking into the distance to where the first of the peaks could barely be seen, he answered the elf.

"We will have to retrieve several things on the way to Gondor that are crucial to your success against Master Vile. Three things in particular are in the Mines of Moria, placed there under the strict secrecy and supervision of Aule. The first of these are your Power Morphers. Unlike Aragorn, the ones with Power Coins do not have the ability to easily morph whenever the situation calls for it. Doing so will require a great amount of concentration to transform and hold that transformation. Until such a time when I can properly train your minds to focus the concentration, you will have to rely on your Morphers to complete the final circuit needed. The second components needed are upgraded weapons to wield when you are in your morphed form. Your normal weapons will serve you well against the Tengas and any other foot soldiers that Master Vile will send but against monsters and mutants, they will shatter like brittle twigs."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully, glancing down to his ever-present long sword on his belt. Theoretically, he could mount it on his back to use but retrieving it in the thick of battle would prove unwieldy until he was able to train. The Golden Power Staff – no, he had to start calling it by its new name – was lightweight and could be easily transformed into its battle mode with the press of a button. He had noticed a crackling of energy around him when it shifted states…almost as if it were waiting for some sort of command. Whatever the activation words were, they would come to him in time. However, as it was with most things, it seemed the words were on the tip of his tongue and were waiting for the proper moment. He blinked the thoughts out of his mind as Sam shook his head and spoke.

"And what of the third item or, dare I say it, group of items? Mister Zordon, I don't know much about weapons or Morphers but is the last thing so important for our mission?"

Zordon nodded grimly. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Master Vile would make his monsters grow and while their Power Weapons could destroy many smaller and weaker creatures, they would leave a great amount of destruction while weakening the beasts. There was no way he would allow such a large scale of death and destruction to befall this world and in the absence of Project Ultra, the Morphin Coins and the Zords would be needed…which would have brought up another issue, had he not had the foresight to create a temporary solution. He was sure his father would not like what he had planned.

"Master Samwise, the third group of items is invaluable to your successful defeat of Master Vile and Sauron. They are highly specialized mechanical constructs that will be bound to your Coins and used to destroy any major threats to your world. Unfortunately, they were all but destroyed in one of the earlier battles in my dimension but I was able to retrieve what remained of the wreckage and reshape it to resemble its natural state. However, as they had been used with another Power at the time, they had gained the properties and characteristics of those Thunder Powers."

Zordon paused in his speech and thought back to those precious few moments after the supposed destruction of the Thunderzords. The Command Centre had been practically hemorrhaging power but Alpha had managed to gather a small reserve to whisk away the majority of the wreckage. Fixing them would have taken time they did not have, so sending them to Ninjor had been the only option at the time. His old friend had spent many hours in front of his tube lamenting his decision; ultimately agreeing everything had worked out for the best and it would allow him to reshape the wreckage into something useable by the Rangers. The sudden transition to the Zeo Powers and the appearance of the Machine Empire had allowed Ninjor to break down the Ninjazords for raw material. In all actuality, those Zords would never be as strong as they had originally been. In fact, they would be almost as powerful as the scrapped Ultra Zords would have been. He had been fortunate that Manwe had allowed him to collect them from their secured rebuilding bays on Eltare, as well as transport them to the Mines of Moria to strengthen with the natural veins of mithril. Indeed, the last communication sent to Galadriel before the lines had gone dark was the completion of the immense task. Of course, he understood why it had to be done.

With all of the upgrades that had been done since their reversion, the Zords now were comprised of several different types of Universal Steel along with Earth-based metals and crystalline components. Theoretically, everything could work together and produce a strong and stable Zord so that wasn't the main issue – no, the main issue had to do with repairs. Superficial damage to the protective paint could be fixed by the internal repair systems and in-depth repairs could be completed instantly within the Grid. The issue would be fixing the Zords mid-battle when various systems would be shorted out and with none of the inhabitants of Middle Earth trained in the use of electronics…Zordon fervently hoped all of them were fast learners. While the mithril armour-weaving would deflect most blows, he had a feeling Master Vile would find a way around that protection – which was why they were going to Lothlorien. If he could weave a protective spell with the help of Galadriel and Celeborn, the Zords would be near-impervious to physical and most magical damage. If he had taken such measures on Earth, he was sure Billy or Tommy would have deemed it 'overkill' but they were not here.

"Anyway, you do not need to know the intricacies of the details behind the reversioning and reworkings of your greatest weapons. Only know that they are the result of many years of skilled construction coupled with fine Dwarven craftsmanship. I could not have trusted such…fine…work…"

Zordon's voice trailed off as he looked towards a small crevasse in the path ahead. There was a sick and twisting feeling in his gut; not unlike the feeling he once had a few years ago when…but that was impossible. He had Alpha scan and rescan the area where the explosion had taken place and had turned up nothing but the expected amount of debris each time. Shaking his head to clear the dread from his mind, he looked back at the Rangers and smiled uneasily, pointedly avoiding the inquiring glance from Gandalf. The Maiar had his own battle to attend to in the near future and, in order to preserve a small part of the original timeline, he would not be telling anyone about what was to occur. As if sensing the danger for himself, Aragorn drew his blade and looked around for the first sign of danger.

"Gee, Zordon, taking a step up from teenagers now? It's too bad they'll end up the same way – dead."

The sneering and somewhat nasally tone set his body on edge as a deep purple and black ooze began to seep from the crevasse. After a few moments had passed, the ooze pulled itself up, twisting and warping, to reveal the familiar face of Ivan Ooze. Zordon's hands instinctively reached for controls that were no longer near his body and cursed silently as he snatched only empty air. Apart from Master Vile, Ivan Ooze was one of the beings which sent fear and terror racing through his body…mostly because he had come too close to death both times he had faced down the morphological being. The purple blob-being looked the same as he had at the climax of the supposed final battle: still merged with the stronger of his Ectomorphicon Titans but possessing the same woven cloak he had worn upon his awakening. The Rangers did not have their full abilities just yet but it would not matter to Ooze. He would just have to hope they could summon enough concentration in the heat of the battle to morph.

The attack came from below. Several purple arms thrust up from the rocky ground to latch onto the ankles of the hobbits and Gimli. Snarling in surprise, the dwarf raised up his battleaxe to cleave the offending limbs, only to blink in surprise as the weapon passed straight through the arms which reformed within seconds. Thunder boomed around them as several purple figures coagulated up from the ground to surround the Fellowship – Ivan's Oozemen. Zordon knew they weren't as smart or cunning as the Tengas but their level of strength was something that could only be matched by a morphed Ranger. Out of the corner or his eyes, he could see Frodo staring at the Dragon Coin in his hand and knew he had to stall for time.

"Ivan Ooze, I should have known you had escaped your destruction. Why are you here, in this world? What possible merit could you have here? Your Ectomorphicons are no more and you do not have the workforce to create more. To come all this way just to be demoted to a servant of Master Vile, truly an ignoble end for a master of Evil in your own right."

Ivan ground his teeth together and seethed at the blatant insult. He knew he didn't have to work under the heel of Sauron and Master Vile but to hear those words coming from the mouth of his most hated enemy was something he couldn't tolerate one bit. Biting back the retort that threatened to spill forth, he looked over the new Rangers with a sneer of disgust. Although they had caused his first defeat in well over a millennia, he had developed a grudging sort of respect for Zordon's Rangers as they had pulled together from defeat in a remarkably short period of time. Had it been any one of the other alien races, they would have been only begun to act after the construction had been completed. They would have returned to the smoldering wreck of their planet and would have lost themselves to their despair…but not those teenagers. They had regrouped, jetted off to Phaedos and had gained the awesome power of the Ninjetti practically before he had time to blink. A few of the vital systems in the Ectomorphicons were left out due to the rush of construction but they had held together fairly well.

These new Rangers Zordon had cobbled together however…he wasn't feeling the same amount of dedication to the cause. He supposed that, in typical fashion, the wizard must not have told them much about the battle they were getting themselves into. The two men looked like great warriors and would probably give him a real run for his money by way of the blades they were swinging around. One of them even had the brat from Triforia's staff on his hip but he hadn't grasped it yet, which was good for him as the addition of Ranger energies would make the Oozemen that much easier to destroy. No doubt Zordon knew of this as well but his seeming reluctance to tell the man of this was quite interesting.

"This is getting us nowhere fast, Zordon. Your Rangers pose no threat to me, Master Vile or Sauron as they are now and I could crush them with a wave of my hand."

Ivan held up his left hand dramatically while, on the inside, he yawned with utter boredom. Uncharacteristically for him, he had meant what he said about the Rangers being no challenge at all. While the wizard, the two men, the elf and maybe the dwarf would pose some amount of effort, the four hobbits – or whatever they were – would be easily killed. That angered him greatly as these new Rangers had his lofty standards to achieve before their blood could stain his fingers. Master Vile, nor Sauron for that matter, would be pleased with his actions but he didn't mind. He still had tricks up his sleeves that even Zordon and the Order of the Meledan hadn't seen; plus, there was the little matter of his merging with Hornitor that everyone had overlooked. Flexing his fingers slightly, he watched the Oozemen take several steps towards the group before vanishing into puffs of smoke. As the sage looked warily in his direction, Ooze waved his hands dismissively in front of him.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to taste elf blood and everything but killing you guys so soon after you've started is unsportsmanlike. The way I see it, I've just given you a taste of the dangers you'll face on the way forward. All of you need to brush up on your skills and learn to use your brains in battle. I also hope you know why you're journeying on this quest because it will more than likely bring you nothing but despair and hardships."

"Such is a part of any life, Sir Ooze."

It was the man who bore the staff of Trey; the one whom had a strange Kingly aura around him. Whoever he was, Ivan was in no mood to be trifled with…even if the man had appealed to his nature by calling him 'sir'.

"I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, know exactly why I am on this journey. It is to destroy the forces of evil from Middle-Earth and claim the throne of Gondor as my birthright. I confess to not being the most wisest person yet but, I am sure, this journey will grant my and my companions the strengths they need to fight the battles ahead. Should you choose to cross us in the future, your destruction will be most assured."

Zordon beamed with pride as he looked upon the King Ranger and his eyes widened in amazement, as he saw what no one else, save Gandalf or Ivan, could see. The sixth shard of the Zeo Crystal that was embedded in the handle of the Golden Power Staff was beginning to resonate with the strong will of the Man. Such a momentous event had only happened in the past around times of great change: such as the creation of the White Ranger powers or the beginning of what was to be called The Countdown. Indeed, Aragorn was reaching, almost unconsciously, for it and the mentor of the Power Rangers held his breath to see what would happen next. For his part, Aragorn was mostly unaware of these things – only that his left hand was reaching for the Power Staff on his belt and that Ivan Ooze was beginning to develop an unearthly glint in his eyes. With a sharp jerk downward, the man freed the Golden Power Staff from his belt and held it in front of him, index finger poised above the button that would transform the Staff and grant him access to a wider world of Power. Drawing in a deep breath and knowing he would be the only one amongst them with any semblance of magic armour, he pressed down on the button as words flew to his lips.

"King Ranger Power!"

TBC…


	6. The Power of Gold

Chapter Six: The Power of Gold

He saw nothing but darkness.

Aragorn began to panic slightly as he looked around him as he floated in what seemed to be a formless void. There was nothing around him that he could use to perceive the passing of time and he felt especially vulnerable. The Golden Power Staff was still clutched in his left hand but, save for the occasional crackle of energy around the red gem, it seemed dormant. Was he still on Middle-Earth or had his attempt to transform landed him in some alternate future where Sauron had won? He hoped he wouldn't have to cleanse the planet single-handedly as he wasn't sure if he could undertake such a massive task with his sanity intact, at least not without some major problems down the line. If it was an alternate dimension, the first thing he should do is attempt to make contact with the protectors of the planet…if he was even on another planet that was.

 _Do not be alarmed, friend. You are safe._

The voice was booming all around him, reminding him of the wizard he had just met. An image began to form in front of him, fuzzy at first but slowly gaining form and shape as the moments ticked by. The future King watched warily as he still hadn't discounted this world to be a trick of Ooze's.

 _Ivan Ooze? I though the Rangers of my mentor defeated him long ago? That does not matter though. What concerns me more is the power staff you have in your hands._

"Your mentor? You mean Zordon? He appeared to us yesterday at after an important Council was disrupted by the forces of Evil and giant black birds. He has given us, myself and a few comrades in arms, the means to stop the oncoming tide of darkness that is to be unleashed but I fear we are sorely uninformed."

The shape had fully revealed itself now. It was a structure in the shape of something Aragorn had never seen before but which greatly resembled the stone heads of Kings under the Mountain that were near Erebor. The green eyes of the figure pulsed with each word and electricity crackled between the still lips. A crest composed of several different parts and patters sat in the center of its forehead and glowed with an otherworldly power. A flash of bemusement flashed across his face as the Man could not fathom how Zordon could have mentored a being such as this but, as he was quickly learning, stranger things were and did happen.

 _Yes, Zordon was, or I suppose I should say is, my mentor. Centuries ago, he taught me to be a Guardian of a Planet and, with my consent, transformed me into the shape you see before you. Now, I must ask you to relax and open your mind as it will take too long for you to explain what has transpired in your past._

Aragorn nodded once and closed his eyes, relaxing his mind and body…at least, he hoped he was relaxing his mind. He could sense something pressing at the forefront of his mind and, with a bit of effort, he allowed it to slip deeper inside. Images began to flash in front of his mind's eye, showing him those mighty warriors that had connections with the Gold Ranger Powers, no matter when, or where, they were. The mighty Gold Zeo Rangers of Triforia and Earth stood in front of him, wielding their weapons to destroy mechanical beasts within eye blinks. From a lightning-filled sky, they called upon something that looked like a heavily armoured pyramid structure that blasted golden bolts of power from the red tip. In front of his 'eyes' it began to transform into two different, but no less heavily armed, modes that combined with a similarly themed set of constructs. Aragorn had a strange feeling he would be seeing a set of these constructs up close soon.

A wash of white light flashed over him, forcing him to close his eyes – even though he knew that nothing could really harm him. Opening them, he saw two humans in front of him, familiar faces he knew from the images the King Power Staff had shown him: the original owner of the Powers, King Trey of Triforia and Jason Scott from Earth. Strangely, there seemed to be two ghostly animals hovering behind Jason – one towering and menacing lizard and a serpentine dragon. They were animals he had never seen before on Middle Earth but he knew that they must exist somewhere for them to be so close to the Earthen Gold Ranger. There was another interesting difference between the two Rangers as well, Trey was covered with a blazingly bright gold aura that was streaked with black but Jason's aura was almost solid red with only the barest hints of gold along the edges. Concentrating on the edge, the future King could have sworn he saw horses in Ranger armour but such a thing was too fantastical to even exist. Blinking the images from his eyes, he say Trey's mouth quirk up as the alien Ranger spoke.

"Rise up, Aragorn, future King of Gondor and accept your power. You are the first amongst your comrades to access the Power and, as such, you will see those who have come before you and those who are coming after you."

"Yeah, we're just the start of the Legacy of the Gold Ranger Powers. They may have skipped a few teams after us in our dimension but, rest assured, they do come back in one way or another. For now though, just relax and allow Gosei to do his thing. We'll get you back into your body in no time."

Nodding in wonder, he allowed himself to drift further and further into the mental cacophony of images and sounds that were flashing through his mind. He could see impossibly large creatures battling similarly large constructs, a team of horse-like Rangers and, something that sent a chill down his spine, an image of an Orange clad Ranger donning thick dragon-themed armour. Were these Rangers active in the Multiverse or were they just images and illusions concocted up by Gosei to ensure he relaxed in this dreamlike void? Whatever the case, some small part of his mind felt comforted by the fact that there were many different Rangers out there fighting the good fight. It was very likely he would never meet them…on the other hand, he had never thought he would meet Trey and Jason either.

 _Master Vile and Ivan Ooze…this cannot be. I truly thought Ivan to have been destroyed by the comet and Vile was reported to have passed away several years ago. I will look into this, though I am unsure as of how I may contact you with my findings. However, your story holds weight as I have seen my mentor amongst the living and walking on two legs for the first time in millennia. It is unfortunate that you will not be granted access to the Golden Zeo Powers._

Aragorn gaped in shock as his hands balled into fists. The point of him receiving the Power Staff was to take on the mantle of the Gold King Ranger and defend Middle Earth from the evil of Master Vile. The Armies of Men, Elves and Dwarves would not be enough to dent the overwhelming power the Mordor Alliance held and, without his strength, the others would be sitting ducks as they needed to collect some artifacts needed for their transformation. As heir to the throne, he should be able to get what was rightfully his…but, and he had to bite his tongue as he realized this, he knew Gosei was correct. It was as simple as Dimensional Transference. He wasn't sure if the new information in his mind had come from Gosei or it was drawn from the crackling staff in his hands.

The Gold Zeo Powers were out of his reach the moment Zordon brought the Power Staff out of its native dimension and in to Middle Earth. Although the Power Staff would contain the Gold Zeo Subcrystal, the true power of the Gold Zeo Ranger would be forever within the Trey of the dimension Zordon had left behind and shared, however faintly, with Jason. Its power had been irreversibly changed upon sensing and melding with the natural energies and magics of the world around him and had sensed his desire and reluctance to take the throne of Man and lead the world to victory against Sauron. It would grant him great power to defend his home and friends but it would not become a crutch to lean on or a powerful weapon to bring complete and utter victory within seconds. No, as all things were, he would have to work with the Power and the people around him to mold himself into someone that could truly be called a King amongst Kings. He shook his head slowly and looked closer at the Staff and smiled as the familiar symbol of the White Tree of Gondor appeared inside the Orb. A surge of pride washed over him and he almost missed Trey's next words.

"Aragorn, you have proven yourself to be a worthy successor to the Gold Ranger Powers. Zordon could not have picked a better person to wield them in battle against the horrors of Master Vile and Ivan Ooze. You will serve well as the King Ranger and will pilot the Golden King Dragon Zord."

Jason smiled at his successor and felt his mind relax. At first, he had had no idea why the Power was calling him so insistently so soon after Xandred had been destroyed but had answered the call immediately. Slipping away from the celebrating Ninjetti and Samurai Rangers, he had found a small room containing a bamboo mat and a single cushion. After receiving word from Jii that he would not be disturbed, he had settled in for a meditation and had hoped he didn't fall asleep. Cross-dimensional travel was something that was taxing on the body and mind, even in the shuttle Billy had lent them and a six-hour battle wasn't helping matters either. He was going to sleep for a week after coming back to his body and then he would begin running tests on the tolls he had brought back from Equestria. He would not let one of his friends face whatever dark forces were left in another dimension, not if he could provide help and assistance whenever possible. However, it seemed as though their time in the dream-void was coming to an end.

 _We do not have a lot of time remaining but Aragorn, please, convey to Zordon that I am well and am gathering the forces required to stem the Armada when they make their move. You are the hope for the world of Middle Earth and you will do the legacy of the Power Rangers proud._

As the voice of Gosei faded away, the King Power Staff erupted in a blaze of light and connecting him to the infinite well of the Morphin Grid. The black spandex-like armour of the Gold Zeo Ranger appeared on his body and was soon followed by the gold belt and bands on his legs and upper arms. As with the orb, the image of the White Tree was faint but most prominent on his belt – the branches intertwining with the King symbol on the buckle. Next to appear were the gloves and boots; pristine white cloth that seemed to radiate light and power. A flash of gold later and the strange patterns that adorned them were replaced with flowing Elvish script that promised swift destruction to the opposition. On both sides of his hips appeared a holster; one for the King Power Staff and the other for a strange device that seemed to be a heavily upgraded crossbow of sorts. Finally, the armour and helmet of the Ranger appeared on his morphed form; the banded surface of the chest plate changed to reflect one that a soldier of Gondor would wear and the helmet visor changed to, once again, reflect the image of the White Tree. Admiring himself for a few moments, Aragorn felt his spirit slowly vanish but not without hearing the traditional Ranger blessing from Jason.

"Good luck Aragorn and may the Power protect you."

TBC…


End file.
